


Name and Business

by ragnqrok



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Literally anything - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Smut, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, and im rlly tired, idk what im doing its 4 am, kylo ren is a dumbass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 14:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18096047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnqrok/pseuds/ragnqrok
Summary: After training under the feared Captain Phasma for most of your life, you are handed a new assignment - or more thrown one. Your new assignment entails a giant space toddler, a snappy attitude, and a lot of skipped meals; all of which you aren't sure how to handle. As you shift into your new work environment, you are forced to face it with an obedient outlook, an impossible burden that both you and your new master are well aware of. However, your new assignment lands you in some unexpected and unwelcome places, all alongside a very snappy emo teenager that has an invisible hand and a dangerous wand. Jesus, this is going to be a trip.





	Name and Business

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so right now im totally not suffering from some very annoying bouts of insomnia, but i decided to finally rip this out of my drafts and actually post it onto here. hopefully this will turn into the series i plan for it to be, but we'll see.  
> thanks for clicking on this xo

Your stomach lurched as you walked briskly through the Starkiller.

You had been on this ship for months, working underneath the famed and dreaded Captain Phasma. You should be grateful for your position, working alongside the most feared and skilled Stormtrooper in the galaxy; maybe even prideful. But you only felt sick now as you rushed through the hallways, already late for a private meeting with General Hux.

You cursed at yourself for being so stupid. You had slept through your alarm, per usual, but instead of waking up five minutes late, you woke up a near half hour late, thus initiating your fantastic day. You glanced down at your usual attire, praying that you wouldn’t be shoved out into space today.

As you neared the command center, your heart rate increased, a clear tell of your nerves. The voice that Phasma used to inform you of your meeting with General Hux told you more than you had hoped, and the fact that Phasma wouldn’t be there caused your throat to feel thick. Although Phasma would probably be considered among the cruelest in the galaxy, she was something you were used to. Not General Hux in a conference room.

“State name and business,” the Stormtroopers patrolling the door grunted out and you jerked in surprise, not realizing you were already at the command center. You rolled your eyes in exasperation as you recalled the billion times you had heard the exact same phrase being grunted through a Stormtrooper mask in front of the door.

“Deja-fucking-vu,” you muttered to yourself before calling out your name loud enough for the Stormtroopers to hear. “General Hux requested a private meeting with me,” you pressed further, hoping that somehow saying it out loud would ease your nerves, only for it to result in the opposite. 

“Follow me,” one of the troopers said gruffly, turning on their heel to the hatch that was beginning to rise. You furrowed your brows in confusion, shocked by the escort. In all the times that you had been to the command center, not once did you receive a personal escort. So as you followed the white trooper through the door, you only felt your stomach convulsing, seemingly twisting your organs as if they were a wet rag. 

You kept on the Stormtrooper’s heels as he walked through the command center to guide you to maze of conference rooms and offices. He weaved throughout hallways until he stopped in front of a seemingly uniform door. He stepped to the side of the hatch, saying nothing. You paused, glancing at the metal until it abruptly rose, causing you to flinch. 

You peered inside as well as you could until a familiar voice of the general gruffed out your name, frustration and annoyance soaking his voice. You winced at the sound of it and glanced to the Stormtrooper in an almost pleading way. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the trooper was shooting you a look of sympathy behind his mask. You took a deep breath before crossing the threshold into the dark room, widening your eyes to get used to the darkness.

You noticed the General standing separate from the conference table at one of the transparent metals that displayed the gray expanse that you had come to call home. You glance at his figure, taking note of his hands that are held behind his back and the position of his legs. His stance attempts to cover it, but his body screams nervousness. You were glad you weren’t the only one.

“Why are you still standing?” the ginger asked as he turns to you slowly, his eyes surveying your form. You choke on your words and stumble into the closest seat, cringing at the fluidity of your motions. He seems to raise his eyebrow himself at your stumbling, but he doesn’t mention it. You hide your hands under the table, wringing them out as if you could get rid of the nervousness. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. 

“Sir, if I may ask, why am I here?” you ask cautiously, attempting to hold a confident tone, but your voice betrays you as it comes out weak and feeble. The general’s eyes meet yours and for a split second, you see what you could describe as sorrow.

“You have been assigned to your first post,” he spoke grimly, now looking back to the outside world. Your heart leapt at the concept. You were going to be at your first post. You were going to be made useful. This is what you had been training for under Phasma and you wanted to yelp in joy, but you kept your body still. “You will serve as Commander Ren’s personal guard,” his voice was solemn and you froze.

It was as if your breath was knocked out of your body. You stared ahead through to the outside world, your mind reeling in thoughts. Your body could no longer tremble or shake. You could just freeze. Your heart rate grew exceedingly louder and you would be shocked if Hux didn’t hear it as it was practically pounding in your ears. Hux began to say something, but the drumming of your heart muffled all voices and your eyes stared ahead.

Hux called out your name loudly and you jerked out of your state of shock, bringing your eyes to meet his blue irises. Your mouth was agape and you were sure your eyes were filled with terror. The general obviously noticed your expression as he sighed loudly, moving his eyes to look at the floor instead of your own. You glanced down at your lap, seeing your hands tremble furiously.  
“Do you realize what this entails?” Hux asked, his voice unnaturally soft for the general. He places the palms of his hand on the dark table, leaning forward slightly. 

You nod at his question, your eyes still wide and your hands trembling. You knew what was to come. The Commander had never had a personal guard, but anyone close to him despite Hux or Phasma eventually met their fate of a saber stroke clean across the abdomen – and if he was feeling spicy, a nice suffocation would do. You knew the Commander had a notorious attitude, and often you would see the effects of it as deep dark grooves in the metal hallways. However, despite your current placement under Phasma, you had never seen the Commander, always being rushed out of the command center just in time for his arrival or being denied access to the missions you could have accompanied on. Worst of all, you absolutely despised the man and a peek into your head displays that in the fullest. What shocked you most was that you hadn’t ever been on the field nor had you finished your training.

“Does,” you trail off slightly, cringing at the violent stutter in your voice. “Does the Captain know of this?” you choke out, your throat feeling like sand was poured down it, followed by cement. You had the feeling that Phasma was unaware of specifically what assignment you were given as she also had a bit of a temper and a knack for protecting you.

“The Captain will be made aware within the hour as will the Commander. You are to report to your duty at 0600 hours. You will be briefed here at that time where you will be introduced to the Commander. Dismissed,” the general spoke curtly and you nodded, rushing to get out of the room. You bolted from the room, your stomach lurching into your throat. You felt the need to vomit arising as you darted through the hallways, desperate to get out of this stuffy base. Your feet didn’t slow down until you darted through the hatch of the command center and came to a dead end of a hallway. You stared at the metal in front of you, noticing your warped reflection in the steel. 

You were going to die.

Your body jerked as the blaring alarm from your data pad signaled that it was 0500 hours, rudely awakening you from your slumber. Your stomach dropped in dread as you realized what was to come. You sighed, pressing the snooze button on your data pad and flopping your body back onto the thin mattress. Your gaze met the ceiling and you scrunched your eyes tightly, wishing that you could just melt into the shit mattress you have and never have to do anything ever again.

You sighed finally after what had to be fifteen minutes, prying open your eyes and looking to the opposite wall where your usual robes hung. You had never been given any sort of armor except for the hidden pads within your robes. Phasma was against the idea of armor for you and instead would usually make you train in thin garments so that you would garner the most resistance to anything that could be thrown my way.

You push your body from the mattress, hissing as your feet greet the cold metal of your room. You waddle over to your robes, your steps riddled with sleep and low blood flow. You huff as you change out of your sleep clothes and into the heavy cloths that you were to wear. You sit on the edge of your bed, lacing up your boots rather quickly and glancing at your reflection in the mirror.  
You wanted to puke at the aspect of the day as you walked down the long and torturous hallway. Judging from the deep scars you found in the metal yesterday afternoon, the Commander was not too pleased either. You could have sensed his rage and frustration from miles and miles away and you weren’t surprised to see the damage of his temper tantrum as you returned to your quarters from the mess hall. Asshole.

“State name and business,” the familiar voice grunted and you clenched your fist in frustration.  
“Yeah, my name is ‘you already fucking know’ and my business if ‘I’m about to fucking die’, so if you would please kindly step aside, that would be fantastic,” you narrowed your eyes at the guards, frustrated at the repeated antics. You knew it was for protection, but you were a familiar face at the command center and didn’t have the care or time to deal with this today.  
To your surprise, the hatch was released in front of you, allowing your entrance. You cautiously stepped through the threshold and into the center where officers were bustling about. You had no inkling of where to go, so you opted to stand still, peering around for any familiar sight. You were about to give up until you spotted Phasma’s reflective armor as she spoke to some inferior officers. You jogged over to her figure, hoping to be discreet.

Phasma barked out your name and you winced. Sometimes, you swore this woman had the force. You tried to put on a stone face in order to avoid any sort of reprimanding, but when she turned around, you closed your eyes tightly to avoid showing any sort of queasiness you felt. You peeked open your eyes when you heard the familiar hiss of her helmet being removed, her eyes meeting yours. You were expecting an emotionless and stoic face, but you were shocked to be met with almost sad eyes. She knew your fate too.

“You have done well in your training, exceeding my expectations. You will continue to succeed. I will be seeing you occasionally, but our training has come to an end. I relinquish you to your duties,” she speaks quickly and you can’t help but smile sadly at her words. Phasma was never one for compassion; after all, she did kill her mother and father. But after years and years of training, she had learned to grow affectionate and oddly protective of you, including your troublesome attitude that could contribute to your upcoming death. “Follow me.”

Phasma takes off, you following quickly behind. She leads you into unfamiliar hallways before pressing on a random hatch door, causing it to rise quickly. She steps inside and you gulp, having no choice to deny her movements.

You look around the room, it being mostly blank. Black walls, black floors, black ceiling. However, in the center of the room stood a large glass case that held what seemed to be a set of matte black armor. The armor itself was relatively thin and there was no helmet to accompany it, but you noticed it was made for a woman. Phasma stood beside the glass case, looking at you expectantly.  
“Is that for me?” you ask, gaping at the armor. It was truly beautiful. It wasn’t bulky like a Stormtrooper’s. It was made for speed and stealth and it fit your personality perfectly. You noticed the space in between the plates of armor was bound with a sleek fabric that made it all the more attractive.

“Yes, this will be what you wear from now on to your,” Phasma pauses slightly, “assignment. Change quickly.” Phasma brushes out of the room quickly, the hatch door closing behind her. You open the glass case, quickly gathering the garments in your arms and sliding into them as fast as possible. You look down at your armor, satisfied at the way it fits. A loud pounding at the hatch door makes you jump and you rush over to see it slide open with an impatient looking Phasma. Phasma takes off wordlessly, you trotting behind her like a loyal dog as she weaves back through the maze of the center.

You’re about to ask where you’re going before she stops abruptly in front of a familiar hatch door. The same one you were in yesterday. She turns to you, a sense of urgency in her eyes.  
“Attempt to restrain from using your attitude. I know it is your natural defense, but the Commander has a certain intolerance for disrespect that would certainly end in your death,” she says and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly that the metallic tinge of blood grazes your taste buds. You’re meeting the cause of your doom right now.

The hatch door slides up quickly and you feel your heartbeat rise significantly, your breathing becoming more ragged. As Phasma steps through the doorway, you already feel beads of sweat caressing your brows. You follow quickly behind your Captain, stepping into the dark room, eyes instantly adjusting to the darkness. You glance around at the familiar conference table and the seat you had sat in just yesterday morning. You look to the window where two figures stand, one with red hair adorning his head and the other masked, black robes enveloping him. You swallow roughly, your esophagus tightening at the sight. You look at the two, seemingly deep in conversation. You could feel the annoyance radiating off of both of them.

“Commander, the Supreme Leader advised it. Do not attempt to deny him,” Hux speaks quickly, his voice insistent.

“I don’t care what the Supreme Leader advised. I don’t need a pathetic man at my side, shielding me like I’m a kid,” the masked Commander bites back.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a man,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your eyes widen, your hand jerking up to cover your mouth quickly at the realization of your mistake. You had just disregarded the exact thing Phasma had instructed.

Your stomach leaps as the two figures whip around at your voice. Hux regards you with wide eyes, as if fearful for your demise. However, you only glance at the general for a second before your eyes flit to face the Commander. You regard his mask with wide eyes, fear filling every inch of your being. You had never been in his presence, only feeling it from a distance. But this was completely different. It felt as if even beyond the mask, his eyes were scrutinizing every aspect of you. You swallowed nervously, the tension in the air high as silence smothers the four of you. 

“Indeed, you are not,” the static voice responds, a hint of malice in his words. You only stare as he turns his body to fully face you. Although you’re separated by a few feet and an edge of a conference table, it feels as if he’s right in front of you, bending you backwards purely by his intimidation. “It seems it was failed to mention that my guard would be disrespectful, much less, female,” he spits and at his words, your mouth falls open slightly.

Before you can get anything out, Phasma jumps in, clearing her throat. You motions to you with her hand as if to make a formal introduction.

“Commander Ren,” Phasma starts, your name following the title as an introduction. “She has been training under me for years now and I believe her to be the most competent for the job,” Phasma says, puffing her chest up in what could be pride.

The Commander’s quiet for a while, as if mulling over the ways he could kill you. You’re distracting yourself with your mind, settling on the choice that he would most definitely make you into a kebab soon enough, when he begins to walk, striding quickly towards you. The closer he gets, the more you fold into yourself, your head screaming at you to run. You take a step back as an instinct almost when he simply steps besides you, his shoulder knocking into yours slightly, slipping out of the door with heavy footsteps. You let out a breath that you were unaware of holding and look back at the doorway. You glance back to the two in the room, clueless to your next move.

“I would suggest that you leave now and return to your assignment,” Hux says, his voice rough with annoyance. You nod and look with a last glance towards Phasma as you follow your doom down the hallway.

His stomping boots are easy to find and soon you are trailing behind him. Even though he makes no acknowledgment of your presence, you know he can sense you. You stare at his back, hoping that at some point you would just disappear into the ground. He stomps out of the hallway and back into the main space for the command center, his presence causing a rift amongst the officers and lieutenants that are bustling about. They all slow and keep their eyes averted from his direction. You wonder what it takes for a man to become that feared. Well, he is sort of a horrible person, but never mind that.

“How long have you trained?” his voice surprises you and your eyes widen slightly as you did not expect him to talk, however, the question comes out more like a command than anything else.  
“About eighteen years, sir. Ever since I was five,” you respond, attempting to sound confident, but your voice wavers and you curse it mentally. 

“How many missions have you completed?” he asked and your eyes widened a fraction, not expecting this question. You weren’t sure how you were going to tell him about the protective and conservative nature of Phasma.

“None, sir,” you spoke quietly, shrinking back into your stance. Ren’s body stops immediately, frozen mid-step. He turns around slowly and you can feel his penetrating glare run right through you. You gulp nervously, your hands latching onto each other behind your back. You only stare back into the two black pools of abyss on the mask, too scared to do anything. 

“Tell me, why is someone of your incompetence assigned to me?” he asks, taunting you. You bite your tongue to keep from replying with a witty remark.

“I am unsure, Commander,” you grit out through your teeth.

“I should have known,” he grumbles, starting to turn around, the only thing you can think of in response is to mentally call him a dickhead. However, he seems to pause once more, turning to you now viciously. He stomps towards you, prompting you to take steps back until you freeze. Unwillingly. You move your eyes to stare at your frozen form. You had heard of the Force, but you had never seen it in person. It was fascinating. “How are you doing that?” the Commander asks, rage pouring from his body.

“Doing what?” you ask, your eyes wide, unsure of what he’s talking about.

“Getting into my mind,” he grumbles and you furrow your brows, utterly confused.

“I-I’m not s-sure what you mean, s-sir,” you say, your eyes peering into his mask. In a swift motion, a red glow is cast over you and the sizzling of plasma makes your eyes go wide. You almost choke on your spit as the blade of the saber nears you, the heat growing in intensity as it nears closer and closer to the small hairs on your neck. You had expected this, but not this soon.

“How are you doing this?” he asks again and you only look at him with pure terror, unable to formulate a response. You want to jerk away and just run, but the Force has a tight hold on you, not letting you move other than to breathe and talk. 

“Oh kriff,” you wheeze out, your chest beginning to feel very constricted. You close your eyes tightly as the ground seems to start moving. Sweat drips down your back and your head feels like it’s hit a brick repeatedly. You can hardly breathe at this point, your panic creeping up your body quickly, almost knocking you out with the intensity and the suddenness. You’re sure the Commander’s speaking to you, but it’s muffled by your focus on everything else going on in your body. You have no clue what’s happening to you, but it’s not normal and most definitely hurts like hell.

You don’t realize the Force on you has been released until you hit the hard metal ground, your senses being knocked into you all at once. You take a deep gasp of air, groaning at the light filtering into your eyes. You blink, attempting to get all signs of blurriness out of your sight. You look up at the body that stands over you, his lightsaber no longer drawn and now at his belt. You hear heavy breathing and you can’t tell if it’s from you or Ren.

“You are dismissed for the day,” the Commander breathes out and starts off, turning into a swirl of black robes before disappearing down the hallway. You only prop yourself up on your elbows, looking around. You struggle to get up, having to lean on a nearby wall for support.

You lean against the metal table, fork playing around with the disgusting slop of food in front of you, drawing abstract patterns in the, well, you weren’t exactly sure. You were still thinking about your encounter with the Commander this morning, confused by his antics. You weren’t sure why he dismissed you so suddenly when he seemed like he wanted to blast your head into smithereens. 

“Princess,” a familiar deep voice calls from above, placing a plate of food in the spot opposite of you as they sit down. “I haven’t seen you around as much, where you been?” Nathan asks, shoveling food into his mouth. Normally, you would blush at the nickname, but right now all you could think about was how close that saber was.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” you sighed, placing your head fully on the cool metal, your first instinct to jump away as the cold brushes your cheek.

“Training that hard?” he asked with a hint of concern and you shook your head.

“I got an assignment.”

“Kriff, that’s great! Wait, why aren’t you happy?” he asks, confusion lacing through his words.

“My assignment sucks,” you huff, lifting your head to meet his beautiful blue irises. You hated yourself for it, but every time you looked into them, your heart jumped in the slightest. You found Nathan really attractive and your friendship was the closest bond you’ve ever had. One day you had bumped into him in a hallway and the next you were cracking inside jokes. However, you always held unrequited feelings for the guy, always getting in the way of everything.

“Come on, Princess. Tell me,” he urged and you sighed.

“I’m literally the biggest dickhead’s personal guard,” you said, and at first Nathan seemed confused until his facial expression morphed into one of pure horror and fascination. 

“That’s awful, but like, cool,” he says, wincing at his own words and you give an uneasy smile. “What’s he like?” Nathan’s curiosity would get him killed one day, but for now, you gave into it.

“He’s,” you trail off, unsure of what to say. “He’s angry. That’s all I can feel coming off of him. And he’s an asshole.” Nathan had always known of your knack to be able to tell what one’s feeling. Sometimes it would be obvious if someone’s angry or happy, but the emotions are always mixed. Nathan one time even described it as supernatural, but you had always just rolled your eyes and shrugged it off, not thinking much of it.

“Yeah, figured that,” Nathan takes another bite of food, the conversation falling dead.

“How’s Brynne?” you ask softly, watching as his face changes into one of pure happiness. Your heart clenched at the expression, but you ignored it. Nathan had been crushing on Brynne for a couple of months and you had yet to meet her. He always blabbered about her and brought her up in random conversations. Each time, it made you wish even more that you could be that person for him one day, but you just shook off that feeling, knowing you could never have that with him.

“She’s great. She just got a promotion to one of the higher pilot spots. I don’t remember what it’s called,” he rambled, excitement evident in his voice. You smiled as he continued to babble on. If he was happy, you were happy. You just couldn’t wait to go to sleep.


End file.
